long lost blogger makes unexpeted return

I think i will write a blog again
and I might have an ambition to do something like, write a poem in it every single day
small or short, tall or long, bad, aweful or brilliant.

Here's todays:

Yes, I'm very happy, everything's going great
it's so good we don't fight much anymore, We've really got a grip on all that rage.
I'm sitting in the car, fog fills up the panes
I'm sitting doing puzzles, waiting for the rain to pass
And on the radio comes one of those perfect songs
About deep deep cool hot awesome love, Forever Ever Ever
It's not a cheesy cliche'd song
It's real and it's clever
And I feel my body clamp inside, my eyes well up with tears
Because I know you wont' ever love me for a million years
You won't make a song about how you love me down to your toes
Forever Ever Ever, so everybody knows.

I'm sitting on the couch, we're going through some magazines
There's women in their wedding dresses, it's the perfect scene
And there's the handsome guy, he's ready and he's willing
I know that they're just models but it fills me with a feeling.
Everybody seems to find someone who doesn't scare them
And even though their threads are loose they love them and they wear them
To all the coolest parties and they introduce them like:
This is my sweet baby love,
My breath, My heart, My Life.
But not me, I seem to be, fundamentally flawed.
'Cause you don't love my loose threads
and you don't wear me out at all.

You told me you are just not ready for a family.
You just think marriage is bullshit
and I shouldn't take it personally.
And it's not like I'm sure sure sure
that you're the one for me.
Still, I can't help but feel like the fruit left on the tree.
All red, and ripe, and beautiful, waiting to be seen.
But winters calling, the leaves are falling, and nobody's picked me.
My sweety seeds, my heady scent, well, nobody will ever know
And from my love filled centre, only loneliness will ever grow.

I'm driving in the car, all by myself.
I don't have to go far, to feel like I'm somebody else.
It's not like me, to not be strong, to need somebody's help.
But when I look up I have driven half way to your house.


There. I don't think its' quite finished. I'd like to make it into a song.

Anybody still out there?